


Toss a Coin to Your Spin Class

by JessJesstheBest



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Fandom Trumps Hate, Finger guns, Gym AU, I've never written in this fandom before and these tags confused the crap out of me, M/M, Modern AU, OH yeah and everyone is wearing a crop top, Spin instructor Jaskier, anyway, weightlifter Geralt, why are they so long?!??!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:41:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23936260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessJesstheBest/pseuds/JessJesstheBest
Summary: Geralt grunted again, showing his teeth in a way that was more sneer than smile. “I just came to finish one class.” he growled.The guy’s eyebrows hitched up and he actually let out a surprised little scoff. “Oh, you think you’re going to finish class today?”Geralt grunted in a way that couldn’t have more clearly conveyed ‘Obviously’ if he’d said the word aloud.Mr. Twink Spin Instructor clicked his tongue sceptically, again looking Geralt over, his eyes lingering on his shoulders and neck. “We’ll see about that.”Or Jaskier is a ruthless spin instructor and Geralt is just a himbo trying his best.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion
Comments: 33
Kudos: 364
Collections: Fandom Trumps Hate 2020





	Toss a Coin to Your Spin Class

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dls](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dls/gifts).



> This is the fastest I've ever gotten a [FTH](https://fandomtrumpshate.tumblr.com/) fic out! YAY ME!
> 
> My beta was [Lise](https://archiveofourown.org/users/okay_pretender) who is fastly becoming one of my favorite people.
> 
> Enjoy!

Yennefer collapsed in the wrong direction on the weights bench next to him and Geralt didn’t even turn his head. 

She let loose a huge dramatic groan of agony, her usual lead-in to gym-time conversation. Geralt grunted in response. His usual response to everything.

“I despise the double standard of conventional beauty requirements more than I could possibly say,” she started. “For you it’s completely fine to bulk up like some barely sentient mountain but for me I must add cardio and endurance training to my weightlifting regimen if I’m to maintain any kind of toned physique as is required of me by our terrible misogynistic society.”

Geralt grunted in response.

Yennefer sighed and flipped over, back to the weightlifting bench so she could at least look as if she would be using the equipment properly. “I took that spinning class they keep advertising on the front bulletin board. It kicked my arse.”

Geralt raised an eyebrow but paid her no attention beyond that, continuing with his reps.

Yennefer generously waited for him to place his bar back on the rack, letting him take his time to respond to that clearly outrageous statement.

“I have seen your arse, Yen.” Geralt responded, finally. “I have to imagine you’re exaggerating.”

Yennefer preened a bit at the compliment but let loose another sigh. “I’m not. The relentless twink who teaches is a vicious tyrant. He picked on me immediately.”

Geralt’s attention had already been caught by Yennefer’s specific mention of a twink but the last bit about being picked on compelled him to respond with words. “Picked on you? How?”

Yennefer groaned again, theatrically flipping her hair over her shoulder in a respectable display of defeat. “He called me out as a weightlifter straight away and wouldn’t leave me alone all class, telling me that I wouldn’t last a day in his world and yelling at me to keep up. He was more than lovely by the end when I  _ had _ actually managed to hold on for the whole class but I was so exhausted I couldn’t move. He laughed at me even as he helped me out of his room.”

There was far too much in that to unpack, Geralt just latched on to the first part. “He thinks weightlifters are weak?”

Yennefer shrugged. “It’s not like he’s wrong. Look at me.”

“Yes, but you’re…” Geralt trailed off, Yennefer’s expression working like a spell to dry his words right up.

“Yes?” She prompted, poisonously.

Geralt grunted in a way that would have sounded like someone clearing their throat in embarrassment if Geralt ever did anything as pedestrian as that. 

“I’m not weak,” he answered, simply.

Yennefer hummed. A dangerous sound. The rattle of a snake before it lunges.

“Well,” she said, flipping her hair the other way, to punctuate her ‘well’. “Care to place a bet on that?”

Geralt found himself scanning his gym pass that next Wednesday at 6 o'clock in the morning.

This wasn’t unprecedented: Geralt worked from home, so most of his self-appointed socialization came from visiting the gym. And he often went early in the morning because, even if the gym was mostly empty, it still counted as socialization to be in a place other people were. 

The difference was, instead of heading straight to the rowing machine to warm up or the weightlifting benches for his daily reps, he waited, glumly, outside the dark, glass-encased studio where the spin class was supposed to take place.

He took Yennefer up on her bet. He hadn’t wanted money: he was mostly doing this for pride (and bragging rights), but if Yen won, she got to pick Geralt’s outfits for the week.

Geralt’s outfits usually defaulted to the gym clothes he worked out in, seeing as that was his only reason to get dressed, and that consisted mostly of black cutoff sweats and a black muscle tank. Which is what he wore now.

The assembled crowd seemed to be mostly chattering moms, here for an early morning workout before they had to get their kids to school. Or there were some professional looking women, getting their class in before a day at the office. Mostly women.

There were at least two other men, speaking to each other, but from what Geralt could guess, they were likely here to ogle the twink spin instructor Yennefer had mentioned rather than any desire to ride a stationary bike to music for an hour.

All of them gave him a wide berth. 

The doors opened at exactly 6:15, a mousy looking brunette guy peeking his head out with a grin. “Okay, true believers, who’s ready to sweat?”

Some of the moms sent up a practiced sounding “Whoo!” but the professional looking women just offered the guy a smile and made their way past him through the door, beelining toward the bikes in the middle.

Geralt hung toward the back, letting everyone head in before him, sure there would be a bike in the back corner he could claim when he got in there.

The mousy guy stopped him at the door with a hand on his chest.

“You’re new,” the guy said, looking up at Geralt with a teasing curiosity.

Geralt didn’t bother to reply. What he’d said hadn’t been a question.

The guy grinned, taking a step back and crossing his arms, blocking Geralt’s entrance to the studio. His frame was slight but muscled, his outfit a neon-hooded but sleeveless crop-top and a pair of running shorts like something out of postcard from South Beach from the 90’s. This was definitely the twink Yennefer had mentioned. 

“And not very friendly,” the guy observed, looking Geralt up and down. “What, were you planning on sitting in the back of the room to brood?”

Geralt grunted. It was close enough to what he’d come to do.

The guy grinned wider. “I’m afraid that won’t do. You see we like to welcome every new student to my class of spin with a featured front row seat. That way I can best review your performance and decide what best to focus on in upcoming classes.”

Geralt grunted again, showing his teeth in a way that was more sneer than smile. “I just came to finish one class.” he growled.

The guy’s eyebrows hitched up and he actually let out a surprised little scoff. “Oh, you think you’re going to finish class today?”

Geralt grunted in a way that couldn’t have more clearly conveyed ‘Obviously’ if he’d said the word aloud.

Mr. Twink Spin Instructor clicked his tongue sceptically, again looking Geralt over, his eyes lingering on his shoulders and neck. “We’ll see about that.”

Geralt felt like he was going to die. 

“That’s right everyone! We’re feeling it, we’re loving it, and now get ready to kick it up! Here we go! Everyone off your seat!”

Geralt attempted to stand in his stirrups but his legs gave out immediately. His tailbone connected painfully with the seat of the stationary bike.

The instructor had been perfectly accommodating at the start, leading Geralt to a bike at the front and helping him adjust his settings. He showed Geralt how to adjust the bike’s resistance and helped strap his feet into the stirrups that were in place of pedals. For safety.

Or just to keep him as a prisoner as he struggled and was verbally abused for it.

“Everyone is doing so wonderfully except our lovely blond mountain up front. Come on Mr. Grumpy, where’s your spirit?”

Geralt didn’t even have enough breath to grunt. He had no idea how this man could talk so much.

“Couple more pushes and then we have our decline. Then we’re onto sprints!”

Geralt huffed in a way that only vaguely resembled the word ‘fuck’.

He finished the pushes but couldn’t physically sit up in his seat for the decline. He was collapsed on the handlebars and couldn’t move.

He’s not sure when his legs stopped, only that the instructor was very loudly making fun of him.

“And it looks like our big strong muscle man is down for the count. Now, friends, let’s not mock him. It’s unkind to lambaste someone’s weaknesses.”

Geralt couldn’t pick up his head, but he curled four of his fingers down in a very weak approximation of the bird. The instructor laughed, jovially.

Geralt’s breath evened out in time, but his limbs would not cooperate with him as he tried to pick up with the workout. He managed to undo his feet from the stirrups, his arse slipping off the seat, slick from his sweat. He got his feet on the ground and stumbled out from the dark and loud room to spare himself the second half of the class. And his torment.

The instructor did take a parting shot as he left: “Excellent work finishing class, Mr. Muscles! Please do come back soon.”

Yennefer was extremely smug.

Geralt was nothing if not a man of his word so he arrived at the gym the next day and took her proffered garments without comment, ducking into the locker room to change.

It was the loudest leopard print jumpsuit he had ever seen. Geralt was disgruntled and impressed: where had she even found something like this in his size?

He did his workout as normal. He noted the extra stares he got from surrounding lifters but they said nothing so neither did he.

Yennefer talked a mile a minute, her breath not even stuttering with her reps, and all Geralt could think about was that damn twink who’d made fun of him. How had he instructed that whole class and still had the energy and breath to talk and cheer everyone on  _ the entire time? _ He’d never even paused in his litany: constant encouragements and critiques and instructions and, in Geralt’s case, cheerful insults. It would have been admirable if it hadn’t been so annoying.

Perhaps there was value in such high intensity cardio.

Geralt scanned his gym card at the same time the next week, back for the spin class.

This time he had brought a 32 oz water bottle, a sweat towel so he wouldn't slip off the seat (again) and even more resolve.

He was also wearing an obscenely tight and tiny crop top and booty shorts with “Are u Nasty?” printed across the arse. This was the last day of Yennefer’s punishment and of course she’d saved the most ludicrous outfit for last.

The outfit did make him more interesting to the assembled crowd, it seemed, but all it took was a sneer from Geralt and they were minding their own business again. Or they weren’t outwardly gawping, at least, which was something.

When the instructor peeked his head out to welcome them to class that week his eyes instantly caught on Geralt and he positively lit up.

“You’re back!” he said, not even bothering to greet the other students. “I did not think you would be! Much less dressed like this.”

“Lost a bet,” Geralt volunteered for no reason he could discern. He didn’t need to explain himself to this guy. Nor justify what he was wearing. What business was Geralt of his?

“I’ll have to thank the bet commissioner should I ever meet them.” the guy mumbled, his eyes lingering on Geralt's exposed sternum. It really was an extremely short crop top.

Geralt just grunted, watching the instructor watch him.

“I didn’t properly introduce myself last time,” the instructor said, dragging his eyes up from Geralt’s navel to his face. “I’m Jaskier.”

Geralt grunted again but, after a moment of consideration, answered “Geralt.”

Jaskier grinned. “Glad to be acquainted,” he said. “Shall we begin class?”

  
  


Geralt was able to grab a bike in the back this time for which he could only be grateful: he knew his arse was falling out of these shorts and he was reluctant to subject the others to it. 

He did better in this class. He drank water when they had a moment, though the guzzling of it did serve to make him feel ill. He wiped his sweat at intervals but dropped his towel halfway through and had to do without it for the rest of class. He couldn’t bend far enough to the floor to pick it up.

Even if Geralt was doing better, Jaskier still picked on him, even in the back of the class. Jaskier seemed to have decided he liked him. He told Geralt to lift his knees higher or try to hold his core and not bounce as much or “Do this bit without holding the handle bars”.Geralt followed his instructions, because he wasn’t a quitter, but he was sure each time he tried he embarrassed himself more.

He made it longer this time but still found himself collapsed over the handlebars before the end of class, unable to move. He didn’t bother dismounting his bike and making his way out this time, knowing he’d have to walk all the way through the other bikes to get there: the door was at the front of the room. And Geralt was happier to wait out the class than suffer that humiliation again.

So Jaskier teased him for his useless vanity muscles again (and, seriously, why were all of the insults about his muscles?) but by the time Geralt was officially spent, Jaskier didn’t linger on his presence for long.

By the time class was over, Geralt was feeling relatively back to normal if not completely sore all over. He undid his stirrups and bent to retrieve his towel, coming face to face with Jaskier when he stood back up.

He was grinning, of course. “You did better today.”

Geralt grunted, ignoring the dirt and grime from the towel’s time on the floor and using it to wipe his neck. “I always aim to improve.”

Jaskier smiled wider. “An admirable quality in a man.” he winked.

Geralt grunted again, turning his attention to his water bottle, unscrewing and re-screwing the top. “Any tips?”

Jaskier hummed, leaning against the front of Geralt’s bike. He was dressed similarly to last week, but this time with a blue-purple color palette, more berry look than the lemon-lime of last week.

“Try doing cardio between classes, too,” he answered, his eyebrows arched in a superior looking way. “Build up your endurance.”

Geralt grunted in a way that could have been construed as a ‘thanks’ before pushing off the bike and making his way out.

He heard Jaskier call out behind him: “See you back next week!”

  
  


Jaskier did see him back next week. And the next week, and the week after that.

After those first two classes, Jaskier got extremely, weirdly supportive. Every minute longer Geralt made it in class from the week before, Jaskier would praise him and give him compliments. Geralt was equally put off and flattered by it. Once, Jaskier said "Look at this white-haired Hercules, moving his muscle around. He's struggling but he's getting there!” when he’d had them do a lot of increased resistance sprints. And another time, during a speed run, he’d said “How do you move your huge body so fast? You're doing amazing!" Which was at once patronizing and nice to hear. He did not need to be babied, to be treated like a toddler just learning to ride a bike. But the way the spin instructor smiled at him did make him feel as if he’d achieved something. 

Whether that something was an achievement with spin classes or something else was hard to say and no one’s business.

Yennefer had not been keeping up with Geralt’s continued attendance of the spin class. She was not usually at the gym that early and didn't catch Geralt until he was well into his workout, so she didn’t even know he’d been practicing cardio. She herself had been weighing the merits of taking up lap swimming which, while with the unfortunate side effect of making her feel like she’s drowning, also meant she could show off her fabulous physique and look sexy coming out of a pool, which were both extremely important to her.

Geralt, as someone who was fond of watching Yennefer get out of a pool, supported this. He also supported this as a way to steer her away from the spin classes, but one ulterior motive was enough. Yen wouldn’t go looking for another.

It wasn’t until the fourth class – a full month of failure and doing cardio as a warm-up before he lifted in the days between classes – that he could make it through a full class, not only having completed the exercise, but not feeling as if he wanted to die.

Jaskier made the whole class clap for him. Geralt gave them an awkward wave in acknowledgement.

His goal was to make it through an entire class. And now he had. He could give up the secrecy: there was no reason to come back.

Except Jaskier was skipping over to him after the class, smile wide in congratulations.

“Well done Mr. Muscle Man!” Jaskier said, clapping Geralt on each shoulder, shaking him a bit with his enthusiasm. “Oh what a journey it’s been! And now here you are!”

“Here I am,” Geralt growled, but in a fonder way than he’d thought himself capable of.

This instructor was extremely annoying. But somewhere along the way Geralt had become incredibly endeared to him.

“You really have done great,” Jaskier told him, his face less bright and more soft. He stood with his hands on his hips, swaying a bit as if the loud music from the class were still affecting him. His outfit was softer today as well: a forest green rather than neon monstrosity. It matched closer to Geralt’s usual black. “I do hope you come back.”

Geralt grunted. He didn’t have any reason to come back. He’d proven he could make it a whole class. He’d done what he’d gone there to do.

But–

“It’s not like I have anything else going on at this time,” he admitted, voice low.

Jaskier’s answering grin was loud.

“Excellent! Now I don’t have to do something stupid like ask you on a date just to see you again.”

Geralt blinked, fumbling his water bottle, the lid of which he’d been carefully unscrewing and rescrewing.

“Why would you do something like that?”

“Haven’t I just said?” Jaskier answered, his eyes glittering with the same mischief Geralt had seen when they’d first met. “To see you again.”

Geralt grunted, his eyebrows furrowing in frustration. “But now I’ve said I’ll come back to class you’re not interested in a date?”

Jaskier cocked his head, his sweaty hair falling past his eyes. “Are you asking?”

Geralt blinked again, biting his lip. He felt like he had been tricked, but he wasn’t completely angry about that.

“If I did,” he started, his already deep voice going deeper as he took half a step closer. “What would be your answer?”

Jaskier looked up at him, his neck stretching back the further he had to look up. “Why don’t you ask and find out.”

Geralt growled and Jaskier just continued to grin at him. The spark in his eye had become a smoldering fire and Geralt was becoming more and more interested in being consumed.

“Let’s go for a drink.” He said, his voice getting even lower, stepping even closer.

It wasn’t a question but Jaskier grinned and answered anyway.

“Yeah, okay.”

Jaskier didn’t take a single step back. He didn’t lean away. He stiffened his chin and met Geralt’s eye.

Yennefer was going to be so smug.

**Author's Note:**

> This concept was super fun and I had fun with both developing the concept and also writing it.  
> Someone please draw Jaskier and Geralt in their crop tops and I you will own my heart.
> 
> The title was my brother's idea.
> 
> [Reblog on tumblr here!](https://saywhatjessie.tumblr.com/post/616866755168616448/toss-a-coin-to-your-spin-class)


End file.
